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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543408">Liebe Schwester</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyna_is_epic/pseuds/Biting%20Words'>Biting Words (Reyna_is_epic)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Elderburn, F/F, Fantasy, Fantasy elements, Forgotten Magic, Gay, German, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Language Barrier, Soulmates, Statue au, Well see, forgotten history, idk - Freeform, im gonna try and keep this short, medieval elements, ruby is so frustrated, sorta - Freeform, why, winter is having a crisis, yang is so fucking confused</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:00:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyna_is_epic/pseuds/Biting%20Words</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is a beautiful statue of a person in the middle of a large city, and the rumour surrounding the statue is that when they touch hands with their soulmate, they will become human. Naturally, it becomes a perfect photo and video opportunity to pose while holding its hand." --writing-prompt-s on tumblr<br/>____</p><p>“Right, so, let’s get the basics out of the way.” She sits up straighter and claps her hands together, folding the fingers over one another until just her thumbs and pointers are still extended, pointed at Winter.<br/>“You are a princess from the ninth century who was cursed by her father, the king of a newly established Schneestadt, and ended up as a statue until we accidentally freed you, somehow.”<br/>She pulls her hands back, turning them so that she's pointing up at herself now.<br/>“I’m a University Student who came to Schneestadt on a school trip to do some research for my German minor, and was sightseeing with my sister when we came upon your statue and decided to take a picture with it because it's a popular tourist destination.”<br/>Her hands finally come apart and land on her knees.<br/>“Questions?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ruby Rose &amp; Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee, Winter Schnee/Yang Xiao Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meet the lovers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A couple quick disclaimers:</p><p>1.) I do not speak German. Despite the fact I keep writing myself into corners that require that I use it, I do not in fact speak it, which is weird, but at this point, I have given up. I apologize if I get something wrong or it is worded awkwardly, I promise I'm doing my research as I go (and I mean more than just google translate, actual research) but I fully acknowledge any mistakes I've made along the way.</p><p>2.) I have no idea what compelled me to write this and there is no stopping me at this point, just pray for me and send help.</p><p>3.) I start college in about a month and I have no idea how that will affect my writing so, good luck.</p><p>One more quick thing here's a basic key:<br/>text written in plain quotation is spoken in German<br/>text written in italics is actual german words<br/>text written in bold is spoken in english.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing that Winter was conscious of was warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s ironic, she thinks, that when she comes back into being, after... </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>being, the first thing she feels is warmth and what stole her away was the cold. She remembers it, even as the warmth continues to spread throughout her body, she remembers the numbing cold that had clamped around her heart in a vice grip and shocked down her spine with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs. She remembers the expression on her sister’s face, that scream of her name before the blackness came and consumed her eyes along with the cold. Then…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She remembers nothing else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warmth starts in her shoulders and falls down her body, like water pouring from a faucet, spilling over each individual muscle until it makes it to her feet and the stone-like muscles that kept her standing ‘til this point give out. Someone shouts something she doesn’t understand and the warmth on her shoulders is suddenly accompanied by something large and warm coming into contact with her face. Arms wrap around her and just barely stop her before she hits the ground. More incoherent shouts come, many different voices speaking at once, all in a mixture of shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she opens her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A face hovers just a few inches from her own, perhaps if she were slightly more cognizant she’d find that strange, but currently all she can think is that the person is remarkably beautiful. Smooth, unblemished skin; blonde, almost golden hair; and white, perfectly straight teeth all paint a picture of some noble. Surely no peasant would have such smooth features, especially not with her father still in rule.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rage snaps the moment of confusion like glass. Her father did this, her father attacked them, her father hurt her sister. She needs to find him, needs to find Weiss, needs to make him pay-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” The face- no, person- no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman?</span>
  </em>
  <span> holding her tries to stop her from getting out of her grip, but Winter has the advantage both of height and years of tactical training on her side. She manages to get one arm free and a leg beneath her before a second set of arms land on her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second set of arms belong to a girl who can’t be much older than seventeen. She’s short, her face is still round with youth, and her eyes are comically large. (A light grey that could pass for silver under the right lighting.) She’s on her knees beside her and it’s only at that point that Winter realizes that they’re on the ground. She says… something…? Winter doesn’t know what. She’s heard several languages and none of them sounded like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She questions. The girl blinks, then, with a sheepish smile, tries again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“German, right, I should’ve guessed that. I was saying that everything is fine, you can stop freaking out, but I guess that point is kinda moot now…” her german is… rough. Accented in a way that Winter isn’t familiar with, but clear enough for her to understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, she can’t get distracted by foreigners, no matter how strange. She needs to find her sister, and make sure that her father hasn’t done anything too unsavoury while she’s been… wherever she was. Carefully, she goes to stand once again, but barely makes it off the ground before the muscles in her legs spasm and spill her back down. The first person, some stupidly gorgeous blonde woman, catches her before she manages to hit her head on the concrete. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde looks up at the smaller girl and says something in that language that she spoke in the first time. The shorter girl just shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t... I don’t think you should try getting up so soon…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… No, I need to find my sister…” Winter disagrees, trying once again to get her feet to cooperate. This time she barely makes it to a sitting position before arms stop her from getting up. She turns to glare at her captor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde asks a question and her counterpart replies. She frowns and two wonderfully well-manicured brows come together in a scowl. Then, she flicks her eyes to the side and, unthinkingly, Winter’s follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s simultaneously a place she’s been a hundred times, and somewhere she’d never think of in her wildest dreams. The cobblestone plaza is the same one that she’d stand at attention in as her father paced back and forth before the rows and rows of soldiers waiting at his command, but now, instead of the mason bricked buildings that lined the outside, there are towering monstrosities of glass and concrete. Glowing orbs line the streets, glitter within windows hundreds of feet above, all shining like there’s no fear of fire or smoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of the large well that sat in the middle, there’s a gaudy white fountain, thousands of silver pieces piled into the middle of it. Clear, clean water spills over the marble, completely thoughtless to the amount it must be wasting, the amount of clean water that isn’t going to citizens, but instead to fuel such a tasteless piece of junk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, what really sends chills racing down Winter’s spine isn’t the fountain, it’s not the towering walls that make her father’s estate look like a child’s playhouse. No. It’s the small statue that stands in front of the fountain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All things considered, it is a beautiful statue, carved by a masterful hand and almost lifelike in its pose. As if at any moment it could blink its blank, white eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The horror that takes hold of her chest is enough to get her to her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of the girls call out, but she doesn’t hear it. All she can hear is the heart thudding like a gavel in her chest. She moves on autopilot, doesn’t even notice that her own boots are shedding dust with every step she takes. She’s standing in front of the statue, and all she can do is stare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It stands on the tips of its toes, poised as if to flee, but the rest of the body is positioned in disagreement. Leaned forward, one hand is outstretched and clutching a sword that seems much too large for the girl that holds it, and the other is held as if balanced on some invisible surface, but whatever was there is now gone, leaving a girl frozen mid-strike, and nothing to balance her weight on. Something as small as a breeze could knock her flat on her back. Winter raises a shaking hand and places it against the marble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cold, hard, unforgiving stone. No warmth of skin, no give of flesh. Her fingers rest against the curve of the statue’s cheek, and freeze. The cold stone doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, doesn’t move. The blank eyes stare past her, glaring daggers into some foe that she can’t see. Lips are pulled back in a familiar snarl, but the teeth don’t grind, the eyebrow doesn’t twitch, the scar… that </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>scar remains motionless in an eternal glare of hatred. She can only guess who it’s directed at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The horror in her chest turns to white-hot rage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That bastard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a squeak behind her but she can’t find the will to pull her eyes away from the statue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill him.” Her breath feels like it's barely escaping her. “I’m going to pull the flesh from his bones.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter’s feet move without her permission and before she knows fully what she’s doing she’s whirled around and advancing on the smaller of the two girls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is he?” Each step shakes her bones, anger rattles up and down her spine like a xylophone gone wrong. The girl stumbles back, a startled expression crossing her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s- Where’s who?” She stutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The King.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A confused expression joins the startled one. “The… what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter reaches outwards, mostly to stop the girl from backing away any further, but before she can make contact a body slides between them. That woman again, the blonde with the absurdly pretty face. Her brows are pulled together in a scowl and, despite Winter’s superior stature, she strikes an imposing figure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A coat made of leather with metal accents does nothing to hide the bulging muscles underneath, what she previously noted as blonde hair hangs down the woman’s shoulders in a flame-like mane. Her hands are up, not in fists, but open-palmed and aimed to push her away should she make an attempt at a strike.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opens her mouth and says something in a low, threatening voice. Even without being able to understand the words she knows the danger they pose. The other girl’s head pokes out from behind her blonde bodyguard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yang!” She growls, elbowing the taller girl in the side. Slowly, she lowers her glare from Winter to the small girl trying to shove her to the side. The contrast of the words that are directed at her and the ones previously directed at Winter are striking. The smaller girl replies in that same strange, almost musical, language. The scowl on the blonde fades, and she responds in what sounds like a single word. Apparently, it is enough to satisfy the small girl who successfully pulls the blonde back and stands between the two of them once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so I think we all need to calm down a bit here.” It takes Winter a moment to register that the words are comprehensible once again. “Miss-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Winter.” She corrects it automatically. The small girl blinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay then… uh, Winter, can you explain what exactly is going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels her eye twitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My father cursed my sister and I for rebelling against him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The small girl’s brows furrow. “Your father… the king?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter bites back the urge to shake her by the shoulders, instead turning and pacing in an impatient circle. “No, my father the baker- Yes the king!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…” she mutters breathily, “shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her blonde counterpart says something, it sounds like a question, and she responds in kind. After getting her answer, the blonde’s brows shoot upwards, accompanied by a word that she’d bet money on is a swear. The younger of the two nods sagely before reaching up with a hand and brushing her hair back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so your dad cursed you and your sister into statues and we… I don’t know, somehow set you free?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would seem so,” Winter grumbles, “so if you’ll point me in his direction I’ll get out of your hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She winces. “Uh, well, one problem with that-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A commotion on the other side of the plaza breaks over the girl’s voice, snapping Winter’s gaze to a small, but rapidly growing, crowd of people all wielding small rectangular boxes. Each emits flashes of light as their talking gets louder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde says something, but before Winter can even begin to ponder what gibberish she produced she turns and scoops her up in her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Warte-”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it’s too late. The blonde’s grip is much stronger than her ability to struggle and upon scooping her off the ground she begins running towards the opposite side of the plaza, her shorter counterpart hot on their heels. The crowd lets out a collective shout and begins pursuing them, leaving Winter in the most confusing chase in her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two girls dart through alleyways that Winter wouldn’t be able to spot on her best days, jumping over stray cats and ducking clotheslines like they’d done this their entire life. When she was younger she’d been on a number of mad runs through the streets after some poor thief who’d stolen a loaf of bread. None of them even compared to the madness that was unfolding before her. The mob of people pushed through alleyways and bushes with reckless abandon, leaving her two compatriots to duck and dart through more and more obstacle-ridden landscapes in attempts to slow them down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smaller of the two slides through what looks like an overturned crate, and the blonde carrying her like a particularly large sack of flour takes a corner so fast that she manages to make it halfway up the wall opposing them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brunette shouts at the two of them, pointing to some alcove off to their left. The blonde mutters something that Winter wouldn’t have caught if she wasn’t pressed against her collar bone and then presses into the break right behind her small friend. The opening is scarcely a foot across and Winter very quickly finds herself face to face with the woman. Her gaze is directed outside the alcove, towards the rushing crowd, but despite that Winter can still make out the startling lilac of her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yang,” the small girl hisses, only to be shushed by her larger counterpart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crowd passes by the alcove, unnoticing of the three crouched together, but it’s only once all of them had passed that the woman carrying her, Yang she assumes, lets out a breath. The heat of it brushes against her cheeks. Yang-- she thinks the name fits somehow-- blinks then leans away briefly as her eyes snap back to her face, apparently realizing their proximity for the first time. A dark flush crosses over her cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other girl hisses something in that strange language once again, it strikes her that some of it sounds familiar, almost german, but not quite and that irks her just that little bit more. Especially when the words that she does recognise make no sense. They’re in a compromising position, sure, but there’s no need to be crass about it, unless of course that word means something different in their strange language.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regardless, the woman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mutters something like an apology and carefully inches her way out of the alcove, freeing the both of them and setting her back down on her own two feet. The smaller girl comes crawling out next, brushing dirt from her knees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Well, this just got a lot more complicated…”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell was that?” Winter can’t hold in the confusion anymore, at least they’re no longer in danger of getting trampled, but that did bring up the question of why they were being chased in the first place, and what was up with those flashing boxes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That,” she mutters, “were tourists.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were… what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Touristen?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she offers once more, but Winter still doesn’t understand the word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your lips are moving, but what is coming out makes no sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang says something while the smaller girl seems to be thinking about how to phrase it another way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess that word didn’t exist while you were- well you’re alive now I guess- but um, well uh-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ruby,” Yang says the word again, reaching out to touch the smaller girl’s shoulder. She blinks, looking up at her and replying in that strange musical language.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“What?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“What are we going to do? We can’t exactly help her seek revenge on a man who has likely been dead for a couple centuries?!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“We can’t just leave her on her own!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I’m not saying we do, but… I don’t know! This is a lot more than we signed up for.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“You’re the one who wanted to take a picture with the statue-”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I didn’t know it would collapse into my arms!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t understand a lick of it, but she can sense the rising agitation between the two of them, so, she intervenes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s enough.” The smaller girl-- must be named Ruby if the cadence that word was spoken in was anything like the cadence that the word Yang was spoken-- looks up at her with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights. Beside her, Yang’s brows remain furrowed. “I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying, but all of this is… new. Different. This isn’t my father’s kingdom, is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No, this is Schneestadt! Just… you’ve uh… been a statue for a… long… time…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sinking feeling starts itself in her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long is a long time…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh… which king was your dad again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Which</span>
  </em>
  <span> King?!” She shouts, scandalized. Her grandfather founded the kingdom. If there were more kings than just two…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh… there’s kinda been a lot, and then, like, a couple hundred years ago they switched to a democracy so-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A HUNDRED YEARS AGO?!?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ruby,” Yang breaks in and leans down to say something softly in her ear. Ruby replies, that other language again, and her voice trembles with the sound of someone who is nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde stands up once again and says something that takes her a moment to recognize as directed at herself. When she fails to answer, Yang nudges her younger friend. Ruby blinks, startled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Oh! Right</b>
  <span>, uh… so uhm… what was your dad’s name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jacques…” she murmurs numbly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang nods, rummaging through her trousers before producing another one of those strange boxes the crowd had been holding. Winter watches, transfixed and numb, as she taps on the empty black surface and it turns to life, glowing with its own light, no fire in sight. She taps a few more times, bringing up some white surface before being presented with a block of letters and pressing on them in rapid succession in order to create words in the box above. She recognizes some of them (Jacques and Schneestadt) but the rest is written in that strange language, though she can tell that the alphabet is similar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang frowns as the box blinks a few times, a glowing circle appearing in the centre. Beside her, Ruby is fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. Finally, the box produces a number and Yang’s eyebrows go reaching towards the sky. Beside her, Ruby says something that she’s beginning to think means the same thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Was’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Yang responds quietly. Ruby curses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter leans over the blonde’s shoulder to try and read what the page says, though much of it is still in that stupid language that is starting to really annoy her. She recognises the number though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s when my father was Coronated.” She mutters. Ruby curses again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what year it was when you… y’know… fought with your father?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“850.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More cursing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang asks again-- yeah that word definitely means the same thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Was’--</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Ruby responds in something shrill and verging on panic. Yang places the box back in her pocket and then catches her by the shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a quick exchange of words, each pitched slightly hysterically. Winter can feel that sinking feeling growing with each passing word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I take it, that it’s not good news...?” Winter drawls, patience already beginning to wear thin. Seriously, these two are worse than Weiss and Whitley--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God, Whitley.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ice washes down her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she really has been a statue for as long as she’s beginning to suspect then that means that Whitley likely grew up without them, alone, as Father’s only heir. Shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The small girl, her translator, laughs weakly. Her smile is wide, trembling. Sheepish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“850 might’ve been… overathousandyearsago...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter blinks. No, she couldn’t have heard that right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you say over-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A thousand years ago?! Yep!” She shouts, voice faux cheery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winter blinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything goes black.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Conversation of Twin Tongues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here's a basic key:<br/>text written in plain quotation is spoken in German<br/>text written in italics is actual german words<br/>text written in bold is spoken in english.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter wakes up with a crick in her neck and a throbbing between her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p> </p><p>It takes more effort than it should to push herself to her elbows and then onto her back, blinking blearily the whole way as the throbbing refuses to subside. It takes even more for it to finally register that she has no idea where she is. </p><p> </p><p>The room is... nice. The walls are smooth and textured in a way that she’s never seen before-- a light peach in colour-- and she’s laid out on one of two beds. Both of them are covered in tightly folded white sheets and facing towards a large, black, rectangular… window? It appears to be more hanging off of the wall than embedded into it, so she isn’t quite sure.</p><p> </p><p>The confusion lasts little more than three seconds before her eyes catch onto the person sitting at a desk in the furthest corner. A blonde woman in tight, form-fitting clothes that leave little to the imagination and show off copious amounts of skin on her arms, back, and the chiselled muscles underneath.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>Winter can feel heat concentrating in her face and quickly claps a hand over her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Verzeihung!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment there’s no noise other than that, and Winter is left to suddenly remember the events of the day and process in embarrassed, blinded peace. Then some rustling occurs and the voice of the blonde-- Yang, she reminds herself-- calls out.</p><p> </p><p>“Ruby, <b>she’s awake!</b>”</p><p> </p><p>Muffled, she can hear a distant reply in that strange language that is beginning to get on her nerves.</p><p> </p><p>There’s more rustling, then a hand gently grasps hers, pulling it away from her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The blonde has put her jacket back on, but with the front now open Winter can see that the neckline of the shirt underneath is still a bit too low for her taste. The heat that had just begun to die in her cheeks flares up once more and she quickly averts her eyes, only for them to catch on the newly exposed flesh of her left hand.</p><p> </p><p>She moves without thinking and carefully places her hand against it, retracting in shock when she finds the surface cold with the sting of metal. Yang snorts suddenly, and Winter is forced to raise her gaze back to the woman’s face. She smiles, sheepish and shy, and tugs the collar of her jacket down, past her shoulder and elbow to show her where the flesh ends and the metal piece begins.</p><p> </p><p>A curse? She wonders, but, no, it doesn’t quite look like it. If it were a curse the place where the flesh and metal met wouldn’t be so… scarred.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Was ist passiert?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yang’s smile changes, her lips pressed against each other in a straight line while her eyes seem to search the air for words.</p><p> </p><p>“Ak-see-dent.” </p><p> </p><p>Winter stares blankly.</p><p> </p><p>“Ach-zee-dent?”</p><p> </p><p>Yang winces, then makes a couple attempts at words before finally letting out a sigh of frustration.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Nein… Deutsch…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Winter had guessed that much, but it comforts her to hear it from her nonetheless. She takes another glance around the room and notes a couple of things:</p><ol>
<li>There’s a window on the far wall with the curtains drawn, meaning that the strange contraption hooked up to the wall is not a window and she’s honestly afraid to ask.</li>
<li>At some point, someone had removed her boots, belt, and jacket so she was laid on the bed only in her trousers and tunic. Her sword is propped against the nightstand between the two beds.</li>
<li>The absence of a certain girl who she could actually speak to.</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>Winter returns her gaze to the blonde sitting next to her and cocks her head in question, pointing towards her then moving her hand down in a gesture for ‘short’.</p><p> </p><p>Yang’s brows raise and she points to the wall beside the bed, then mimes washing herself.</p><p> </p><p>Winter snorts, a bath? Now?</p><p> </p><p>She’d voice the absurdity, but finds that she doesn't quite have the energy nor the means for it. Yang wouldn’t understand anyway.</p><p> </p><p>A strange expression crosses her face.</p><p> </p><p>She asks a question, but Winter’s got no idea what, so she just shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>Yang winces, then points to herself, “Yang,” and then the wall, “Ruby,” and finally, at her and waits for her to fill in the blank.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Winter.” </p><p> </p><p>Yang’s brows knit together.</p><p> </p><p>“Venner?” She tries.</p><p> </p><p>Winter blinks.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Nein, nein,” </em> she corrects and fights the twisting of the corners of her mouth, “Win-ter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Venner.” She says again. Winter snorts.</p><p> </p><p><em> “N… nein…” </em> The word comes out shakier this time, it’s harder to smooth out the smile threatening to break through. Yang’s mouth has no such qualms.</p><p> </p><p>“Van-Nerr!” She exclaims, exaggerating the syllables with zeal, a positively evil glint in her eyes. Winter lets out a chuckle before she can stop herself and quickly claps a hand over her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>A roar of laughter breaks out of the blonde’s and she does absolutely nothing to stifle it. In fact, she rears back her head and shows off a flash of white teeth, rocking the entire bed in the motion. It’s a remarkably masculine reaction that reminds Winter vaguely of some of the knights she’d served with.</p><p> </p><p>It’s also strangely… endearing.</p><p> </p><p>There’s something captivating about the unbridled joy, something that makes a little pocket of warmth finds its home in her chest. Slowly, she drops her hand from her face, letting her smile stay there, unbidden.</p><p> </p><p>Her father isn’t here to criticize her anyway.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Am I interrupting something?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Winter whips her head to the side, startled by the new voice. Ruby stands there wearing a smug expression and a new set of clothes: another one of those sleeveless tunics that Yang wore under her jacket and long white pants with little pink roses somehow woven into them.</p><p> </p><p>Yang’s laughter abruptly cuts off and a bright pink colour floods her face. She grumbles something, and Ruby’s smirk widens. </p><p> </p><p>Winter coughs awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Was ist passiert?” </em>She asks once more.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a moment for Ruby to stop staring Yang down, but she does eventually acknowledge Winter’s presence. Now in a closed setting, Winter is hit with the fact that her eyes actually <em> are </em>silver, and shockingly so. Her smirk is quickly replaced with a sheepish smile.</p><p> </p><p>“You passed out, I think from shock, uh… sorry about that…”</p><p> </p><p>Winter winces.</p><p> </p><p>“No need to apologize I… have been told I don’t handle surprises well…” A sudden memory of her sister trying to show her that she’d learned how to summon comes rushing back (and the resulting explosion of fire-magic that had occurred afterwards).</p><p> </p><p>Ruby coughs, still sheepish.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyways, uh, we snuck you back into our hotel so we could avoid the tourists and figure out our next move…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Next move. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Winter frowns.</p><p> </p><p>Did she even have a next move? She was over a thousand years out of her depth, where to even begin with that? What to even <em> do </em>with that? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Save Weiss. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, that was at least one goal that stayed the same. Everything else could come after, future or something else, Weiss was still her primary responsibility.</p><p> </p><p>“I need to free my sister,” she starts. Ruby nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, but first we need to… figure out how to do that…”</p><p> </p><p>Winter blinks.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Wir?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ruby’s head cocks to the side, evoking the image of a confused dog.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Freilich.” </em> And that word is said with such certainty that Winter almost feels foolish for even asking, “We freed you, we aren’t just going to leave you to try and navigate modern society with absolutely no idea what you’re doing. That’d just be mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter supposes that’s fair.</p><p> </p><p>Yang and Ruby exchange a couple quick words, likely translating, Winter realizes. Yang frowns and places one of her metal fingers against her chin.</p><p> </p><p>“How… How <em> did </em>you two free me?”</p><p> </p><p>Ruby blinks, turning back towards her.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh… not on purpose?” She shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>Winter feels the muscles in her brows tighten</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, ‘not on purpose’?”</p><p> </p><p>Yang tugs on Ruby’s sleeve, wrestling her attention away. She’s already half-way to standing, and she mumbles a quick question, jerking her thumb in the direction opposite the window where Winter assumes there’s a door.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Winter asks.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby glances over.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s, uh, offering to go get dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter eyes the window. She can’t tell how bright it is on the other side of the curtain, she hadn’t realized how late it was. It certainly explained Ruby’s new attire, they must be nightclothes.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh, <em> danke.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Yang understood that word at least, nodding at her with a tight-lipped smile. It’s strange, she thinks, considering the laughter she’d bore witness to earlier. Ruby’s presence seems to change her somehow. She stands straighter, her expressions more guarded. Almost like Ruby was the stranger rather than Winter.</p><p> </p><p>She exchanges a couple more words with Ruby before taking her leave. The room seems duller in her wake and Winter isn’t quite sure if that’s because of the absence of her hair or her personality.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby rounds on her, her smile wan in comparison to Yang’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, so, let’s get the basics out of the way.” She sits up straighter and claps her hands together, folding the fingers over one another until just her thumbs and pointers are still extended, pointed at Winter. </p><p> </p><p>“You are a princess from the seventh century who was cursed by her father, the king of a newly established Schneestadt, and ended up as a statue until we accidentally freed you, somehow.”</p><p> </p><p>She pulls her hands back, turning them so that she was pointing up at herself now.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a University Student who came to Schneestadt on a school trip to do some research for my German minor, and was sightseeing with my sister when we came upon your statue and decided to take a picture with it because it's a popular tourist destination.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hands finally come apart and land on her knees.</p><p> </p><p>“Questions?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Many. </em>She thinks.</p><p> </p><p>“What year is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” She says and tries to ignore the way her stomach clenches at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>“2018.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter wheezes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Zweitausendachtzehn?!”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Ruby nods sagely.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Zweitausendachtzehn.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Winter can feel her heart beating, feel it pounding against her ribcage. Feel the breath in her lungs struggling to get back in, feel how her hands are shaking, trembling in her lap. Is this a panic attack? It feels like a panic attack.</p><p> </p><p>“Winter?” Ruby calls and, faintly, she registers that her pronunciation of her name is significantly better than Yang’s.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Scheiße.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ruby snorts.</p><p> </p><p>She looks up to fix the girl with a glare, but it’s just wasted energy. Her eyes are squinted shut, amusement shaking her shoulders and (unlike Yang) her hands are clamped over her mouth to try and quell the giggles.</p><p> </p><p>“Find something funny?” It’s meant to be biting, but Ruby’s amusement doesn’t even waver.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, sorry, just wasn’t expecting you to be so…” She trails off into another fit of giggles and Winter fights the urge to roll her eyes. The girl said she was in university, but she still can’t quite wrap her head around her being any older than 16.</p><p> </p><p>“So?” she finishes for her, flatly.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby doesn’t answer right away, instead finishing her bout of laughter and struggling to pull herself back into some semblance of calm.</p><p> </p><p>“Normal…” she finally manages.</p><p> </p><p>Winter feels that she should be offended.</p><p> </p><p>“I am perfectly normal-“</p><p> </p><p>“You’re also from the 9th century,” Ruby interrupts before she can finish, “I hate to break it to you, but how would you feel if you were talking to Julius Caesar and he just cursed in front of you?”</p><p> </p><p>She supposes she does have a point.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine…” she grumbles and smooths down her metaphorically ruffled feathers. </p><p> </p><p>“So, next question..?”</p><p> </p><p>Winter frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“You said you and your companion have no idea how you freed me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sister,” Ruby corrects and Winter files that information away for later, “and yes. We were just taking a picture with your statue when it suddenly collapsed into you.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter furrows her brow.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not know what this ‘picture’ is, but tell me exactly what you did: what position you were in, were there markings on the ground? Were you touching the statue? Which one of you touched it first? Did you say any words after touching it, if so wha-“</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, slow down there, Princess.” Ruby’s hands are raised placatingly, but her eyes have taken on a strange, almost vacant quality to them. “I’m not a native speaker, so you’re going to have to break that down for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter blinks, a thought suddenly occurring to her.</p><p> </p><p>“What is that language that you and your… sister… speak?”</p><p> </p><p>That gets the younger woman’s brows to rise.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh, <em> Englische </em>? I don’t know if it existed back when you were- er- when you came from.”</p><p> </p><p>Winter doesn’t recognise it, but decides not to dwell on it.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, can you sum up for me the exact events leading to my ‘freedom’ from the stone? I feel that would be our best clue for finding a way to free Weiss-”</p><p> </p><p>“Weiss?” Ruby interrupts suddenly, a strange expression crosses her face. Winter blinks.</p><p> </p><p>“My sister-”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no I got that,” Ruby waves a hand dismissively, the barest beginnings of an amused smile pull at the corners of her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Was… </em>” Winter's starting to get the feeling that in the intervening centuries between then and now people’s senses of humour had changed drastically.</p><p> </p><p>A snicker escapes Ruby’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just… your parents named you Winter and your sister Weiss… in Schneestadt…?”</p><p> </p><p>Winter blinks, slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“I fail to see how this is amusing-”</p><p> </p><p>“Winter and White live in Snowland?!”</p><p> </p><p>Winter can feel the years being taken off of her lifespan.</p><p> </p><p>“Our family name was Schnee….” she mutters, grudgingly.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby throws her head back, cackling, and Winter can’t help but notice the similarity in her and her sister’s laugh this time. Their eyes crinkle in the same way. Something aches deep in her chest, it feels an awful lot like grief.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a solid couple minutes for Ruby to compose herself back into something resembling calm, but once she finally has she quickly fills Winter in on the exact nature of her freedom. Apparently, Yang and she had been sight-seeing as Ruby had some free time between seminars she had to attend with her university group. They’d visited hers and Weiss’s statue which was apparently a popular tourist destination because of its incredible craftsmanship and unknown artist. “Of course, we know why now.” The statue, named Liebe Schwester, had become the focal point of a lot of artistic and social debate due to its utter despondency with the art of the era it was dated to. Ruby had been lining up to take the picture (of what that was, Winter still wasn’t entirely sure) when Yang had jumped into the frame, slinging her arm around Winter’s shoulders and throwing up two fingers in what Ruby called a ‘peace sign’. Winter had promptly collapsed, and the rest she already knew.</p><p> </p><p>That was…</p><p> </p><p>“Interesting…” she mutters the word, holding her chin in thought. “So Yang freed me…”</p><p> </p><p>Ruby shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“If you want to call it that, that give you any information to work with?”</p><p> </p><p>Winter wondered that herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Possibly… though I’ll admit that the arcane was never my strong suit. Weiss was always more interested in that, I’ll have to do extensive research if I want to collect anything from that.”</p><p> </p><p>Ruby frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“Research? Where exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>That… was a fair question.</p><p> </p><p>Winter winces.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t suppose that the royal library is available to the public?”</p><p> </p><p>Ruby starts to shake her head, then pauses, the right side of her mouth quirks strangely.</p><p> </p><p>“Well… not all of it, but a good portion was donated to the university, so I can access some of it…”</p><p> </p><p>Before Winter could think of a plan of action the sound of the door clicking open interrupted them. Yang lets out a heavy sigh before her footsteps bring her into visible range. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Rubes… you’re gonna want to see this…” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>She's carrying an opaque white bag in one hand and that small black rectangle in the other, though the front of it isn’t quite so black. Instead, it displays what looks like a smaller and more colourful version of a newspaper. The headline is in that language (<em> Englische, is that what she called it?) </em>but Winter recognises the image displayed beneath it. It was a life-like, colourful even, rendition of herself, Yang, and Ruby. Her body was laid out on the pavement, Yang’s arms wrapped around her torso while Ruby stood to one side, looking surprised. On the other side of the image, her sister’s statue remained frozen alone in front of the fountain.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby curses-- at least she thinks that's a curse-- and stands to take the rectangle from Yang’s hands. Yang lets her and sets the bag down on the desk she’d been sitting at earlier. Several containers  are pulled out, one is handed to Winter. Winter stares at it like it might try to bite her, glancing up to settle Yang with a confused look. Yang blushes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Ah… shit, Ruby what’s the German word for chicken?” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Ruby grunts rather than answers whatever question Yang had asked, and the blonde frowns in her direction. She reaches over to wave her hand in front of her sister’s face. Ruby blinks her way back to the present.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“What?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“German word for chicken?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>One of her brows rises, then her eyes focus on Winter. Her mouth splits open in a silent 'oh'.</p><p> </p><p><b>“Oh, right, uh- </b> <em> Hähnchen </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Yang nods before turning to Winter.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hähnchen </em>.” She repeats, very seriously, pointing at the container in her hands like WInter hadn’t heard Ruby.</p><p> </p><p>She fights the urge to snort.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Danke </em>,” she replies instead and opens the container to reveal what definitely did not look like chicken. If anything, it looks like little balls of bread. She decides not to question it, though. The two had already gone out of their way to help her, the least she can do is swallow her pride.</p><p> </p><p>It tastes like chicken, at least, even if it's a bit greasy for her tastes.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby lets out a string of what Winter can only assume to be swears before handing the rectangle back to Yang, pulling at her hair with the other hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Problem?” she asks, not terribly surprised.</p><p> </p><p>Ruby grunts.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe… but we can worry about that later, right now we need to lay low...”</p><p> </p><p>Winter pauses in her consumption of the breaded-chicken-balls. </p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>Ruby waves her hand dismissively and pulls one of the containers out of the plastic bag, popping a couple of the chicken-balls into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Yang, you got any spare clothes that she can borrow?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Yang frowns at the question, then glances in the direction of the other bed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Yeah, but it might be a bit big… does she even know how to wear modern clothes?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Ruby snorts and rolls her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“She’s from the ninth century, not dumb. She can figure it out.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Yang makes a noise in what sounds like disagreement, earning a glare from her younger sister.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Yang, clothes.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p><b>“Okay, okay, geez.” </b>Her hands rise in surrender before she rounds the bed and tugs up what looks like a cross between a chest and a bag. She pulls it open with the help of some small metal contraption. A thick-looking yellow tunic along with blue woven trousers are promptly deposited in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“You can change into those tomorrow,” it's jarring, almost, to hear the transition from one language to the other, though Ruby looks unfazed, “We’ll go check out the university’s library and see what we can find.”</p><p> </p><p>That heat in her chest wells up once more, and Winter feels the inexplicable urge to cry. She shakes her head, dismissing the thought, and instead stands to bow at the waist.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, both of you, for your kindness.”</p><p> </p><p>She's met with a confused silence. Then, gently, a warm hand lands on her shoulder. She glances up to meet those beautiful lavender eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“No need.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Winter really wishes that they spoke the same language.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Nichts zu danken…” </em> Ruby translates, joining her sister at her shoulder. “It’s the least we could do.” </p><p> </p><p>And Winter supposed that, yeah.</p><p> </p><p>It was the least they could do.</p><p> </p><p>So she’ll do the least that she can.</p><p> </p><p>She smiles.</p>
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